He couldn’t wait another moment... but he had to do this right. For both of them.
“I want you,” he said between kisses. His voice was raw, hoarse. She nipped at his lips. “I need to feel you beneath me, part of me. Every moment I spent away from you, I was haunted by the scent of your skin and the feel of your tongue against mine.” She licked him, her eyes slumberous and teasing. He smiled back, a man lost. Helpless. “You’ve bewitched me. And I am desperate for more.” His fingers squeezed his overeager cock, which ached to be inside her. “There is nothing I want more than to make love to you. If you’ve even the smallest of doubts... tell me now, or I won’t stop until I’m buried inside you and we’re panting in pleasure, again and again.” His cock lurched in approval. “Tell me you want that, too.”
She blinked. In that second, her amorous gaze went from satisfied to horrified.
She gave a tiny scream and cracked her forehead against his in her desperation to flee his embrace. The pain in his skull was the least of his concerns. She scrambled backward, her expression aghast.
“No.” Her face drained of all color. She began to shake her head. “No. Oh, no. No, no, no.”
The hard shaft in Evan’s hand stopped pulsing.
“I—I—” She rolled away from him with such force she tumbled onto the floor. In seconds she was on her feet, smoothing her hopelessly wrinkled skirts, gripping her silk gloves. She forced them over trembling fingers without meeting his eyes, then backed toward the door. “I can’t. I... no. I don’t know what in the bloody hell I was thinking. Dear Lord, Iwasn’tthinking. We can’t do this.Ican’t do this. My—my husband—”
“Yourwhat?” Evan stared at her, mouth open, cock in hand.
“Not yet,” she rushed to assure him, “but the one Idoget is going to assume certain things, such as me never having done a single thing that we just did and—” She yanked open the door, then turned her anguished gaze on him. “Believe what you will, I am a lady. I wish to be treated as such. By you, by everyone, by the man whom I will marry. He will expect to bed a virgin on his wedding night. I expect tobeone.”
Evan’s fading cock slipped from his slackened grip of its own accord.
“I don’t fancy being another one of your conquests,” she continued, a creeping blush bringing color back into her deathly pale cheeks. “I have a conquest of my own to make.London.And to succeed, I need to guard what few advantages I still have.” She backed into the hall. “Please don’t kiss me again. Please don’t touch me again. Ever.”
With that, she was gone. The latch clicked in place behind her with the cold finality of a jailer slamming a prison cell shut.
Chapter 32
Evan rebuttoned his fall. He reasoned that Miss Stanton’s inglorious flight from the bedchamber had actually saved both of them from making an exceptionally unwise mistake. He doubted it was just the crack to the head that had made her speak the one word guaranteed to deflate the ardor of a man who’d never tumbled the same woman twice:
Husband.
Luckily, if also a bit insultingly, she clearly had no matrimonial designs on him whatsoever. Unluckily, her desire to remain a virgin until her wedding night—for which he would certainly not be present—precluded them from lovemaking.
He pushed off the bed and glanced about the chamber to make sure he hadn’t left any evidence of his presence. A long-instilled habit. Although he had never intended to lay with other men’s wives, the women in his past had not always been honest about such details. No, he’d left nothing behind. Except perhaps a bit of his pride.
Miss Stanton’s hair comb, however, poked out from the wrinkled folds of the tester. In fact, the entire mattress was awash with wrinkles. He pocketed the tiny comb and idly wondered what the servants would make of the disarray. Perhaps they would assume their master and mistress had tired of their bedchamber and sought excitement in an alternate venue. Evan chuckled. For all he knew, the overgrown oaf made love to his wife everywherebuttheir bedchamber. Perhaps the woman wasn’t “too sick for visitors” so much as simply exhausted.
He stepped into the hall. Since he was here, he might as well find Ollie. The servants might be close-lipped to outsiders, but they’d certainly mention Evan’s presence to their master. Come to think of it, since the brute wasn’t currently breathing down his neck, perhaps now was the opportune moment to search for the ornate box they’d unburied from the garden.
He headed downstairs. First step: Check the dining room mantle to see if the similar-looking ornate box were still present. If it was now missing, then at least he’d have solved that much of the mystery. If not... well, then he’d keep searching.
The dining room was empty, but embers still burned in the fireplace. They offered just enough relief from the shadows for Evan to take inventory of the mantle’s contents. Brandy. A forgotten cigar. An unlit candelabra. And the same gilded jewelry box that had always sat there.
He plucked a taper from the candelabra and bent the wick to the last of the dying flames. No easy task. He used the thin candle to light the rest of the candelabra and returned the taper to its original location. In the ensuing orange glow, the bejeweled box looked the same as it ever had... with two notable exceptions.
First, the jewel-encrusted lid was now closed. Before, it had remained open, the better to exhibit its empty but delicately sculpted interior. Second, the dark clump lodged inside the tiny lock was nothing more than... dirt?
Itwasthe same jewelry box. He knew it!
He picked up the surprisingly heavy container and gave it a careful shake. Empty. Even without opening the lid to verify, there were no telltale sounds of clinking jewelry or shifting weight as the box’s contents slid from one side to the other. Nonetheless, he tugged carefully at the heavy lid. Locked. He’d need a key to open the damn thing. He glanced up to look for one—and found both Ollie and his lapdog standing in the doorway watching him.
Evan froze, his fingertips poised at the crevice between lid and receptacle.
Ollie was the first to step into the room. “Devilish tricky to open without the key, isn’t it?”
Evan couldn’t very well act as if that weren’t precisely what he’d been attempting to do, so he didn’t bother to playact. Instead, he removed his fingertips from the stubborn lock and held out his palm toward Ollie. “Got the key handy?”
Ollie ignored Evan’s outstretched hand, returned the heavy jewelry box to the mantle, and set about pouring a glass of brandy. He did not offer any to Evan. Just as well, for this seemed a moment where keeping a clear head would be wise.
“Why is the box closed?” he asked.
